Closet Romantic
by SnowShadowuser
Summary: [AU] It all started with a prince’s ball: Sophie was deathly afraid of changes. She was deathly afraid of wizards and witches. So imagine her shock when she finds out that the man trying to court her is none other than the notorious Wizard Howl…
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **So I couldn't help myself. I am delving into a completely different category, and I'll probably confuse a whole lot of readers. But I'd like to point out this is not a Cinderella story. It's a mishmash of fairytales and legends, a pinch of myth and a dash of lore. Not to mention the magical dueling. Okay, one more thing…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Howl's Moving Castle nor do I claim to have written the novelized version. I own a copy, but I don't think that's illegal… of course, it's legal if I didn't steal it from a Hong Kong triad and now they're after my head because the boss has a strange fantasy fetish…yeah.

**-**

**Closet Romantic**

Chapter One

-

Sophie Hatter was a sensible girl.

Every morning she'd wake up at exactly 6 AM, open the curtains and the window, go to the bathroom and brush her hair. Before half past 6 she'd be in her grey dress and in the kitchen, pouring herself milk in a small cup. She'd take a handful of cereal and hungrily gulp down her milk. Her stomach usually growled before she left her apartment.

Sophie Hatter lived a drab little life. She could hardly afford a ride on the trolley, much less a nutritious breakfast. She disliked asking for help, so she often ended up fending for herself in the streets. Sophie also disliked change. She was deathly afraid of changes, actually, and she didn't mind clinging to the remnants of her past. Her hat, for example, wasn't very pretty, and did not match her ensemble very well, but nevertheless it held _some_ sentimental value.

As she traveled down the main road, passing luxurious carriages and sparkling automobiles, a group of squealing girls gathered around a particular shop window. Sophie proceeded past them with barely any interest, but did manage to catch a small conversation.

"They're holding a ball for the Prince!"

"You mean Prince Justin? He's the younger brother of the King, isn't he?"

"I hear he's going to become the leader of Ingary's armed forces!"

"After he finds a wife in the Ball, right?"

Sophie ignored the squeals from behind and continued her halfhearted jaunt. A ball for the prince and his hopeful future wife: How very cliché. She had no interest with true love, simply because she had no time for such things. All she cared about was her savings and the prospect of a full course meal. Food was more important than love, after all.

As she walked the last block to her destination, a familar scene met her. A little more interested with this crowd than the last squealing fanatics, she stopped and listened to the gentlemen arguing amongst themselves. Most of them were rich farmers here to nab the best deals from the prosperous town of Market Chipping. The shop window they were standing in front of held a lopsided wanted poster, crudely taped by shaky hands.

"They're offering a reward for the Witch?"

"Is the King mad?

"Well, the Witch did threaten his daughter's life. Princess Valerie, was it?"

"Wanted Dead or Alive… It's pointless either way!"

The men heartily laughed as Sophie walked away. The Witch of the Waste, as her full title went, was said to be a seductive enchantress. A carefully beautiful woman, she once stole the heart of three kings and five princes in less than one month…allegedly. But that was then, and this was now. It seemed like the Witch had lost herself after a short fling with the fabled Wizard Howl.

"Oh, Sophie," her boss, Fanny, said with a glance. "You're early as usual. The shipping just arrived last night. You should pick up the materials."

"Yes Fanny," Sophie placed her small purse by the counter and went into the backroom. Fanny was a kind woman, if not a little extravagant. She was the type to indulge in jewelry and the latest fashion craze. Fanny had two daughters with two different men; Lettie, the older of the two, was an exceptionally pretty girl with an even more exceptional bust size. Martha, the younger girl, was a dreamer. Her ideas were original and brilliant, and her precious daydreams created new line of products every year. They were the two Hatter sisters.

Sophie may share the same surname, but she was not at all related to the girls or their mother. It was pure coincidence, and the fact was supported by her looks—she could not compare with the two beautiful sisters. Nor did she share the qualities that made them stand out.

She scrounged through the boxes for the new hats. Seven Larges, ten Mediums, and four Smalls; she had quite a load to finish before lunchtime. Hopefully by then the crowd gathered outside the Café would have dispersed. She was still hungry, and if the farmers were still standing around and talking about that Witch…

The other worldly Wizard Howl…

The very mention of the Wizard's name sent shivers down Sophie's spine. She had been told numerous times the dangers of traveling alone at night and in alleyways, for the Wizard only showed his face to vulnerable females. That was how the legend went, anyway, and he was so handsome he had dared toy with the heart of the Witch of the Waste, and not only did he succeed in making her fall in love with him: He had made her crazy. They say the Witch was a complete mess, a ghost of her former beauty, and she had declared to rip out the heart of the Wizard Howl just two months prior to the start of this story.

Sophie thought the two made a wonderful pair. Let the Witch and the Wizard fester in their meaningless quarrel.

As she sat down to begin her work the doorbell rang. Bessie, the only remaining shop assistant, came in with a flock of customers waiting on her. She had the tongue of a fickle fairy, able to convince a woman in buying more than the woman would ever need in one shopping trip. Sophie's deft needlework seized when her stomach growled. Her mind wandered to Lettie. The girl worked at Cesari's Bakery and often received custards and other delicious treats as payment.

Sophie, as you all know, disliked asking for help.

Setting down her needle and the unfinished hat, she got off her stool and patted her dusty dress. She checked herself in the small mirror. The bags under her eyes weren't as noticeable as she had thought. And her hair didn't look too frizzy. Picking up her hat from the coat hanger she tiptoed out of the shop like a mouse, grabbing her purse from the counter. Lettie had a day off today, so if Sophie was to go to Cesari's she wouldn't feel _too_ awkward…

She walked out the backdoor of the shop and slowly started down the alley. It was half past 8, and the streets were crowded enough to make a morning trek a tiresome expedition. The buildings blocked the sun, giving the alleyways the illusion of nighttime. As she made a turn she saw a soldier, a bushy man disobeying the law and taking a cigarette break. Of course, soldiers were common now that they were returning after the victorious Strangian War. The soldiers still unnerved her, however, and she took a detour through another alley.

Passing two taverns and a suspicious bar, she self-consciously tugged at her hat and quickened her stride. She thought she was safe until she came face to face with a grinning man. A young soldier with a smug smirk at the corner of his lips, he looked down at her with laughing eyes. Behind him was an older soldier with a thick mustache.

"You're very pretty," he commented without any hesitation. His eyes unnerved her, and, unbeknownst to Sophie, her hand shook.

"T-thank you." Sophie inwardly belated herself; her voice shook, and she didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes. A bad way to avoid being accosted.

"Hey, take a look at this mouse," the soldier called for his older companion. "I think this one's lost her way."

"Well now, she's a cute one," the other's response was identical to the first soldier. "What's the matter? I hope I'm not scaring you." Even he noticed her shaking by now.

Sophie glared at her shoes, still unable to look at them with a straight face. If she had the courage she could've told them off. She had the mindset to do so, but it was the consequences that frightened her more so than the soldiers. It was looked down upon to oppose Ingary's soldiers…

"Why don't we treat you to a drink?"

Sophie snapped her head up. "No, I'm afraid I'm not…"

"She mustn't be of the right age," the old soldier wisely deducted. "I think we can keep a secret though. So how about it?" He fingered his mustache with a lethal look in his eyes, an obvious sneer running across his aged face.

"I… I don't…" Her voice died halfway up her throat as a warm arm comfortably rested on her small shoulders. Her heart beat so fast she was sure her ribcage would crack. Along with her spine.

"There you are honey. I've been looking all over for you."

The two soldiers were surprised, as they stepped back ever so slightly, not having seen this gentleman approach the three. But they were not deterred, as the first soldier challengingly stepped forward and scrunched his nose at the newcomer that dared move into his territory. "Hey, we saw her first," was his pathetic excuse, and, momentarily, grasped for the rifle slung over his shoulder. "You better get out of here if you know what's good for you."

"I think you two should leave," the deep, alluring voice held a hint of amusement. Sophie saw the hand that was hanging limply beside him rise and point his delicate index and middle finger at the soldiers. The two soldiers in question suddenly straightened with their chests puffed out. Their faces couldn't hide the fact that they were shocked, and soon, with little protest, the two marched away as if pulled by invisible strings. Sophie would've found this humorous if she wasn't confused herself.

"Now," the blonde man pulled her attention with a dazzling smile. "Where were you headed?"

"To…to Cesari's…" Sophie kept her answer short for she did not trust her mouth right then and there. If she didn't watch herself she would start stuttering all over again, and she had experienced enough embarrassment to last a whole week.

"Wonderful!" said this advanced man. "I was meaning to get some breakfast myself. Why don't we keep each other company?" Without waiting for an answer he began to pull her forward, arm still rested on her shoulders. He walked calmly and gracefully, making Sophie feel all the more clumsy walking beside this man. She stole small glances when she thought he wasn't looking, and saw that he must be well into his 20's. His bright, almost contrived blonde hair shimmered even in the dark alley. She noticed a slight glint underneath his hair as she stole another glance, and wondered if he was actually wearing earrings. Sophie looked down and hid behind her hat when she thought she had caught his eyes.

The silence that followed was unbearable, to say the least, but she had the distinct feeling that this man was having quite a time. She saw that his smile had grown and an uneasy hand seemed to twist her innards when she, again, caught his eyes.

"I think," Sophie slowed, forcing the man to stop in his tracks, "I should go back to work. I didn't think it'd take this long to go to Cesari's." To her surprise he was unfazed. Actually, his smile seemed to widen even more.

"Nonsense!" he said and leaned down to reach eyelevel with Sophie. "It'd be a shame to see you go without breakfast. Come, it'll be my treat." The prospect of not having to pay for breakfast was almost too welcoming to refuse, but walking so close to this man was not helping her appetite. Sophie Hatter was a sensible girl, after all.

She tried to step away, which took a lot of her meager courage, when it looked like he would pull her forward again, but an odd sensation forced her feet to follow the man's nimble footwork. Step by step the two were in sync, and the dread in the pit of Sophie's stomach deepened. She was sure this man had cast some sort of spell on her. Sophie tried with all her might to pull away, but it was a fruitless attempt. She now understood how the two soldiers had felt.

Soon the two walked out of the alleyways and into the crowded streets. The day being May Day, the crowd was more festive and louder than Sophie would've liked. All over town girls pruned for this day were being serenaded with music and sweets; men were accosting women and buying them drinks; the farmers' sons were laughing and jostling through the crowd, dashing past Sophie in a manner that nearly gave her a heart attack. She didn't realize she was pressing into her escort until they were in front of Cesari's.

"Take a seat," he took one of the white metal chairs outside the bakery and beckoned her to sit. Sophie, still a little dazed, slowly sat down and clutched her purse, twisting it a little too tightly. All around her people were screaming and celebrating. Gorgeous ladies were flaunting their news hats or dresses in front of the men without hesitancy. Sophie was the complete opposite—a shy gray mouse that looked too plain to be in this crowd.

"Two cream cakes," he quickly said to the waiter, handing the menu over, "and a glass of lemonade for my lady."

Sophie lowered her head and blushed. She would've normally been infuriated if someone had introduced her as _his_ lady, but right now the idea of eating without having to pay seemed rather important, at least more than defending herself. Her stomach attested to that, as it took all her might to not let it growl in front of this man. She had the feeling she was being watched and couldn't help but look up.

The man, hair pulled back behind one ear and indeed revealing a jade earring, had one elbow elegantly propped on the table and his chin on the back of that hand. He watched her with unwavering blue, marble-like eyes. She couldn't pull her eyes away, and this staring contest continued until the waiter came back with a tray filled with the most beautiful sight Sophie had ever seen.

Food—delicious nourishment, enough to last till lunchtime if she was lucky.

Not caring if she would be thought a pig, she shakily picked up her fork and knife as soon as the plate was placed on the glass table. She ignored her escort's chuckle and cut a small piece. It tasted like heaven.

Her escort watched her eat with an everlasting smile that seemed to be stapled to his face. "I knew you'd like it." He watched as she proceeded to gulp down her lemonade and finish her cream cake. She had a satisfied little smile on her face as she put down her fork and knife and finished her drink. Her smile disappeared, though, when she saw the man sitting across her and his untouched food.

"You haven't…" she spoke, almost a whisper because she was so reluctant.

"Oh, I'm not very hungry." He snapped his finger and immediately a waiter came to his side. "Please refill her glass. Oh, and another cream cake please. Also, would you mind packing this one up?" The waiter graciously bowed and took the untouched cream cake with him. Sophie was feeling overly pampered, and her unease came back with full force.

"Thank you," Sophie said when the waiter came back with another tray, "for treating me to this, I mean."

"But of course," he nodded and crossed his arms. "It's the least I could do as a gentleman." He seemed to be more satisfied to watch her eat, and that unnerved her even more. Not wanting to upset him, she went back to her food. Sad to say it wasn't as delicious as the first cake, and she was sure it didn't have anything to do with the ingredients.

When the bill was paid and the packaged cake was given to Sophie, she found herself once again under her escort's arm. Though she wasn't as tense as when they were coming to the bakery as they were now leaving it, it was still an uncomfortable position. Holding her purse and the little package with a tight grip, she wished for the journey to end soon. As if reading her thoughts the man leading her through the crowd looked down. "I hope you're not too weary."

The thought that he would think the short trek was tiring her angered her, but she wasn't about to snap on a stranger. "No sir, I'm just… I didn't have enough sleep, that's all."

"Oh, you have a roommate?"

Sophie was confused at first. She didn't understand why he would ask her _that_ when all she said was she lacked sleep. Then it dawned on her: If she was tired because she didn't have enough sleep…and if she lived with someone else… he thought she had… oh.

"No!" she answered a little too forcefully. "I live alone. By myself…" She looked down, embarrassed at her outburst.

Her escort took it in stride, though, and the two entered the alleyways as he said, "Well, I used to have a roommate, of sort, myself. She was an interesting thing, to say the least." He did not see the look of horror that struck Sophie's face… he was telling her about his love life? "But, alas, things just didn't work out as she had hoped. Now I have a _Witch_ after my heart."

Sophie would've stopped if her feet weren't controlled by his steps. Did he just say that? Sophie looked up at the man's face with unbelieving eyes and stared without realizing what she was doing. Had he just said…?

Her question was left unanswered as she found herself in front of the backdoor of the Hatters'.

"Well, thank you for keeping me company," he said, sliding his hand down her shoulder and forearm, almost caressing the skin beneath her sleeve. "I enjoyed our breakfast."

Sophie was breathless. It was like electric shocks were being sent through her nerves. His hand traveled all the way down to her wrist, softly, lovingly, and held her petite hand in his own. He raised her hand and bent down, kissing the back of her hand with an elaborate slowness that caused her heart to skip a beat. His lips lingered there, much longer than necessary, and when he was finished his casual smile was even wider than before.

"I hope you will accompany me for dinner tonight."

Sophie blinked, overwhelmed and yet, strangely enough, a little touched by his gesture. "I don't know… it's a long walk to my home, and I wouldn't want to be caught walking at night—"

"My dear Sophie," he said, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Don't you know a _Wizard_ can provide a better traveling option?"

Sophie's eyes widened. That was all she could do, as she was glued to the cement at the moment.

"I'll see you at eight, on the dot. That's when you get off your shift, isn't it?" Knowing the answer he turned around and walked away, just like that. She didn't turn to watch him go. She didn't see the shadows cloak him as he disappeared down the alley. Nothing seemed to matter except for his words.

He was a wizard.

He somehow knew her name and when she got off work.

And, if she remembered correctly, he said he had a witch after his heart.

Sophie leaned back, her back against the door, having lost the will and the strength to stand. If she was still sane, if she hadn't gone mad, and if her memory was still good, then she had just had breakfast, and was going to have dinner, with the fabled Wizard.

The Wizard Howl…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**-–—–-**

Sophie watched the clock with a stoic expression on her face.

Half past seven.

She set down her needles with a very small sigh. If one was to look into her workroom at that very second, one would've thought Sophie was simply disinterested, typical for a girl her age. She in fact, however, was very much paralyzed. Sophie looked at the stack of hats she had yet to touch. Lavender, teal, cherry, creamy white and caterpillar green bonnets. So much color surrounded her, yet, still, she felt so very grey.

Outside her small, dirty window dark clouds started to gather over Market Chipping.

"Now girls," Fanny's loud voice snapped Sophie out of her nervous thoughts. "I need to go and bargain with the silk merchant."

"We know you're out looking for houses," Martha said in an irritated mood. "There's no need to lie to us."

"Besides," Lettie continued. "We just want to talk about dresses."

"Why don't you ask Sophie to make you both new dresses?"

"But this isn't about May Day! It's about a ball! Prince Justin's Ball! We need pearls, rubies, sapphires… you pay Sophie handsomely, mother, but she can't possibly gather **all** the materials we need!"

As the sisters argued and their mother started to inch towards the door, Sophie walked to her window and opened it just so. A cool breeze gently tickled her nose and a distinct smell, something she learned at Porthaven, caught her attention. Looking up, she noticed the clouds. She was disheartened. It looked like she'd have to use her savings to ride the trolley after work. Or she could walk in the rain and risk catching a cold, not owning an umbrella and all. But… what about dinner?

"Yes," Sophie whispered as she closed the window. "What about dinner?"

She had no intention of meeting the wizard. Actually, she was busy coming up with clever ways to avoid the wizard she had met that morning. She knew it was all in vain, however. How could a mere mortal like her escape from the gaze of a wizard of witch? It was foolish for her to hope, she knew, but it felt better than wallowing in her misery.

Sophie Hatter disliked asking for help.

Even now, thinking about what happened during breakfast, she was mortified over her feeble ways. She had let a man, a wizard of all people, escort her through the crowds. As if she was a little child. And she had let a man treat her to two cream cakes…a delicacy. Sophie turned to the pink package sitting beside the window. She had not touched the gift. She knew she needed to eat the leftover before tomorrow morning, lest she let it waste in her workroom.

Sophie looked back to the clock. Fifteen minutes till eight.

With a new determined air about her, Sophie grabbed the spare shawl from the coat hanger along with her hat and picked up the pink package. Sneaking a peek through the doorway, she realized she had been left to close the shop. Bessie the shop assistant had gone out early to meet her husband-to-be, and Fanny must've let her two daughters follow her out the door. Quickly wrapping the shawl around her shoulders she moved to blow out the candles in the shop, the shop now darkened by the lack of light from outside.

That was when the bell above the door rang, almost like a funeral toll. At that very moment, lightning flashed.

Sophie's heart nearly stopped when she whirled around to stare at the wizard, standing in the doorway with a large black umbrella held above his shimmering hair. The lightning added a dramatic, almost frightening effect. Sophie's breathing was still shallow when the thunder rumbled, lazily rolling after the lightning. The wizard stood, unmoving, as the rain began to pour down.

"May I come in?"

Sophie blinked, surprised by his question. "I… well, of course." She didn't know why, but she felt like she had signed her will as soon as those words left her mouth. The gravity of her words weighed heavily on her mind as the wizard stepped in, tentatively.

Almost endearingly.

Something sly, something dark flashed past his face before he raised his head and dazzled her with a stunning smile. "I believe it is time." It was more of a statement than a question.

Sophie breathed in, mentally preparing for what she was about to do. This man was still a stranger to her; there was still a chance he may turn into a spiteful monster and cast a hateful spell on her very meager soul, like the girl in Kingsbury that had been cursed with the hundred year zit. So, understandably, she was very nervous when she said, "I'm sorry, but I can't have dinner with you. I haven't finished my workload for this week, and I'll need to come in early tomorrow morning to finish. I can settle for this if I decide to eat tonight," she focused her gaze on the pink package in her hands, cleverly casting her eyes down and avoiding the wizard's eyes. "Thank you for breakfast, by the way…"

After a moment of silence Sophie looked up, and to her surprise, found the Wizard smiling. He looked amused.

"Sophie Hatter," he said with his melodious voice, "why didn't you ask for help?"

Sophie blinked several times, trying to understand his question. "I don't need…" was all she could muster. She watched the Wizard close the door behind him, who proceeded to close his umbrella and set it down beside the door. He took off his colorful overcoat and placed it on the stool next to the grandfather clock. The Wizard turned, and with a grin, said, "Should we get started?"

Sophie could not move. It was as if her feet had been cemented to the floor, toes stubbornly holding onto the wooden boards, her life seemingly depended on her immobility. Still not understanding his last question, Sophie opted to asking a question of her own. "If you don't mind my asking," she started gingerly, "would you happen to be…?" _Would you happen to be the Wizard Howl?_

"Yes?" His smile was deceptively kind.

"I'm sorry. It was nothing." This was also one of her faults. She wasn't one to speak her mind—she was a coward. Sophie would promise herself everyday: Don't hesitate; speak out loud; let them know; defend yourself. Yet she never quite kept her promises. Even though she detested breaking promises, she eventually learned that she wasn't a dependable person. Perhaps dependent, but nothing else.

"How delightful," the wizard said, pulling Sophie out of her sulking. "Such a quaint workroom!"

It was one thing for a wizard to visit her in a shop; it was another for a complete stranger to step into the haven of her private room. Sophie quickly shuffled after the wizard and found him already making himself comfortable in her workbench.

"What, what are you do—I mean, I was about to close the shop, so we really shouldn't…" She clammed up when she saw the two intense cerulean eyes. The wizard's eyes were beautiful, yes, but there was something about them that unnerved her. Trying to speak to someone with two marbles for eyes was somewhat intimidating; no matter how magnificent those eyes were.

"I see you have quite a lot of work left. We should get started."

_We should…get started?_

"Why don't you rest up and enjoy the cake?" Howl grinned. "I might need your help in an hour or so."

Sophie was shocked. Was he suggesting that he do _her_ work? "I can't, I can't ask you to help me with those!" she said, waving at a particularly high stack of hats.

"Why?" was his simple question.

A good question indeed. Why did she always refuse help? Was she too stubborn for her own good? Did she like being independent all the time? Had she always been this resistant to assistance? No. None of it was true. She only wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of something, anything.

"It just wouldn't be right." Sophie couldn't think of anything else. Right then she felt so weak, so helpless, that she began to feel sorry for herself. Why did she hesitate whenever she thought about asking Fanny for a raise? Why couldn't she tell Lettie and Martha that she _wasn't_ being "handsomely" paid? Why did she always shy away whenever she was in a crowd? Why did she cower when a farmer's son deliberately nudged her back?

How pathetic was she?

"Sophie," the wizard quietly said. "Sometimes it's OK to be dependant." He slowly stood up and rested his hand on the rough surface of her worktable. He watched her with unwavering eyes, noting the uncertainty in her eyes, analyzing the way she slightly twisted the edges of the packaged food.

Sophie stiffened when Howl the Wizard walked over and delicately tilted her chin up with his thumb and index finger. Her first instinctive act was to look up at his features, momentarily forgetting his two marble-like eyes. His refined face seemed even more captivating in the darkness of the workroom. Sophie held her breath, not protesting when his thumb yearningly traced her bottom lip. The tension broke only when an exceptionally bright lightning flashed outside the window, dragging along the typical roar of thunder.

"I'll…I'll go get you coffee," Sophie said in a hushed voice, fear threatening to overwhelm her words.

"Of course." As soon as Howl released her chin she was out of the room. Sophie felt it the moment whe walked out the door; the room had felt so confined, so suffocating, she thought she was actually in a closet. She hurried to the shop counter and lit as many lamps as possible, lashing out at the shadows. As soon as she was satisfied with the lighting she rushed to the backroom.

She _did_ promise coffee, after all.

---

"Sir?"

Howl gave a thoughtful noise and did not turn around.

Sophie quietly set the small wooden tray beside the wizard and straightened the small cup and spoon. From the corner of her eyes she saw the elaborate needlework of twists and turns work around the rim of a dark ruby hat, the yellow strings dancing about the headpiece with as much artistry as a dancer. Her eyes fell to the wizard's hands, which were rooted on the table. He was using magic.

"I hope you don't mind," Howl said with a smile, "that I've chosen an unconventional route."

Figuring she had been caught staring, Sophie looked away as she felt her face heat up. "I don't mind at all. I'm just grateful…"

"You should rest," he continued, sparing a quick glance to make his point. "Such a pretty flower shouldn't waste her youth away before she fully blooms. Go ahead, sit down."

Feeling out of place, even though this was _her_ work area, Sophie cautiously sat down on an older stool. She leaned her head back on the wall and ignored the slight creak of her seat. He was right. She was exhausted, though she'd never admit it. Her eyelids began to droop down as soon as she found a comfortable position on the stool. With her elbow on the table and her head pressed up against the wooden wall, Sophie slowly drifted to a peaceful slumber.

It felt like it had lasted for only a second: The sunlight was in her eyes even before she heard the morning birds' chirps. Rubbing her watering eyes Sophie looked around, disoriented and groggy. Her neck was cramped and her elbow wasn't doing any better. Figuring she had fallen asleep in her workroom and not her room, Sophie quickly stood up before she could slump over the table and retreat back to sleep.

She looked to the clock. It was eight in the morning.

Sophie turned to her table. It wasn't very surprising—perhaps she had expected this as soon as she woke up—to see the finished stacks of hats and bonnets. They were all done; every single one of them. She held her forehead, feeling a delayed reaction of shock and guilt. He had done all of this while she had slept through the night. Then she paused.

Her forehead was warm.

A fever? No, she felt fine. This warmness was familiar… as if somehow, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had consciously experienced it before.

"Sophie!" Fanny unceremoniously entered, surprised as much as Sophie was to see the other there. "I didn't see you come in! Have you been here all night?"

The teenager opened and closed her mouth, unable to find the right words to explain what had happened. She supposed she should settle for an easy "Yes" and revert to silence afterwards.

"Well," Fanny smiled, genuinely impressed. "You managed to finish all this in just one night. You have a real gift, Sophie. I should give you a bonus for all you've done."

Sophie smiled tightly. Her façade was painful but necessary. She did not like being praised for another's work, but she didn't think Fanny would appreciate having a Wizard in her shop, primarily overnight in Sophie's room. Silence was golden.

"We don't have anything in the back for you to fiddle with today. Why don't you relax for a bit before the next shipment?" Fanny happily said and walked out of the room in a very pleasant mood.

Sophie turned to the open window and slowly moved to close it, trying to ignore what Fanny had said.

"_I should give you a bonus for all you've done."_

Was it right to accept that? The question repeated itself over and over in her head like a broken record. Sophie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to figure out where she was at. That's when the tip of her right index finger brushed the wad of paper tucked in her hair. She wasn't the type to write a note-to-self and then forget about it, especially if it was a type of reminder.

Pulling out the note she unrolled the wad and read the contents.

_Sophie—_

_Wonderful time last night._ _Hope we can do it again soon. Thank you for the coffee._

_Would love to accompany you to the Prince's Ball._

—_Sincerely, Howl_

Sophie held her forehead again, this time feeling quite sick. This note was an answer to the question that had been nagging her all day yesterday; even though she had been sure, even though she had no doubts in her mind, she had not been given any confirmation to her suspicions. This note was proof to that: The wizard was indeed the infamous Howl.

Worst of all, she began to realize why her forehead had felt the way it had when she woke up. Because, in her dream, she remembered seeing Howl the Wizard lean over and give a sleeping girl a peck on the forehead.

And that sleeping girl, she now knew, had been her.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: And now to do something totally unexpected. We switch over to Howl's point of view and see HIS take on recent events! Oh joy! (You can understand why this chapter took some time…)

**Disclaimer**: Refer to the first…oh forget it. None of you will ever learn.

-

-

**Chapter Three**

-–—–-

Howell Jenkins was a romantic at heart.

Even though he was generally seen as a rather self-absorbed Casanova, he couldn't imagine why, he cared enough about his latest love interest to take his time starting an inquiry. He did not simply move from woman to woman because he enjoyed it—that would be the furthest thing from the truth—he took a genuine interest in the mind of each and every woman he encountered. The human heart was a fickle thing: Wizard Howl always stuck with a love interest until he was thoroughly sure the quarry was in love with him.

And when that happened, the game simply came to an end. Howell Jenkins loved games. That's why he would move on, for a same game, to him, had no point in being revisited. Every woman presented a new reason and a different ending. Once he was done playing with one particular game, he would move on to a (preferably) different game.

This did not make him hasty. On the contrary, he waited and waited until he was done exploring every aspect of the game. Even if he foresaw a certain ending, he stuck it out and stubbornly waited till he was sure there was nothing left to be explored.

It was a shock, then, to find himself pursuing a relatively archetypical prey.

You see, a week before the start of this story, he had set his eyes on a very enchanting figure: Lettie Hatter. She was known for her curious beauty and her fierce determination. However, because she was so very popular in Market Chipping, she was always amidst the throng of admirers and devoted followers. This meant she had limited time for herself.

And the Wizard Howl was not about to lower himself, and become one of Lettie's many amateur followers, just to win her attention.

"Howl."

It was around 7 in the morning, the sun just having risen from the eastern mountains, when his young apprentice entered through the door from Kingsbury.

"The messenger left two letters from the King. And I think one of them is an invitation…"

"To the Prince's Ball," Howl smiled knowingly. "Yes, I was expecting that."

"Then you're going?" A small fire slithered over the new firewood Howl had dropped minutes earlier on the blackened hearth. Two large pupils dilated as if awakening from a nap, and a black gap acting as the fire's mouth widened as it yawned, raising two small, fragile fists in the air in a nice long stretch. "Are you going to invite your latest love interest along?"

"You shouldn't," the apprentice interjected, just as Howl was about to respond. "You know the Witch of the Waste is after you. And speaking of the Witch, the second letter is about the reward…"

"The Most Wanted poster?" the fire laughed heartily. "Of course, the King's very interested in her. He'd naturally call for Howl's hand, just like when he needed Howl's hand in dealing with High Norland—"

"My, my," Howl stood up from his stool, having heard enough. "You're quite energetic today. You've been rolling in the ashes again, haven't you?"

"I wouldn't if you'd just clean the hearth!"

Howl took his extravagant overcoat off the coat hanger as he moved to the door. "I'm needed at Market Chipping. Try not to burn the chimney down, Calcifer. Oh," he paused as he passed his apprentice. "There's the matter of our customers' tab…"

His apprentice nodded. "I know. I have it covered."

"Hey," Calcifer glared. "You're ignoring me, aren't—"

"Off to the Market." Howl quickly hopped to the door and turned the doorknob, the dials turning in sync. Calcifer's protests fell on deaf ears as Howl opened the door, breathed in the fresh air, and promptly closed the door behind him.

Howl looked around and observed several men accosting the same woman at once. He watched the street performers joyously entertain the ladies and rebellious soldiers leave their posts to flirt with maidens huddled near a Café. This all meant one thing: today was May Day. Howl smiled. He had not pampered himself to be overlooked. It was time to find a damsel.

He did need a date for the Ball, after all.

His new strawberry blonde hair shimmered along with his most flamboyant overcoat as he all but declared himself to the crowd. Something he did not elude was attention—both positive and negative. His presence alone usually stirred unrest amongst the most proper of adults. Howl's magnificent appearance did not, however, come naturally. Beauty came with hard work; something that vexed him to this day.

Having caught the eyes of a group of young lasses, he gifted them with the most dazzling of smiles. His unearthly charms weakened their knees and many of them fanned their faces as he passed, his smile very much engraved in their dazed little eyes. Yet…even though Howl enjoyed attention, often times he found himself having to question his once everlasting reservoir of patience. For the past few years he began to tolerate less and less, sometimes finding annoyance in things he had been capable of withstanding in his high school days.

It was the vengeful backlash of his discarded past.

Realizing his smile was becoming strained, and furthermore pretentious, Howl quickly turned a corner and sauntered into a rather ominous alleyway, intent on leaving the noise behind him. He came to regret his action the moment he came upon a soldier taking a smoking break. Howl disliked the smell of smoke; one of the many reasons why he never cleaned Calcifer's hearth. Disregarding the soldier, Howl jaunted past the smoke, the shabby bars, the broken-down saloons, and the shoddy taverns.

"You're very pretty."

Howl did a double take when he nearly walked past a narrow backstreet. It was hardly a scuffle; two soldiers had left their posts and were currently busy attempting, and failing, to accost a very attractive maiden. Howl backtracked and examined the girl closely from around the corner. She was very pretty indeed. Her ginger hair was plaited in a pauper's braid, yet, even from behind her back, her tacky sense of fashion could not hide her delicate face. Her petite frame made her all the more adorable. Yes, she wasn't eye-catching or magnetizing as his latest interest (Lettie) but there was something about her that stood out… not quite ordinary, but not quite remarkable.

Something familiar, something mysterious…

_Ah, I see, _Howl thought, cleverly. _A game of contradictions. Splendid! I do love a good challenge. Let's take a look at that face, first._

And, luck would have it, this particular damsel was, in fact, the most appealing damsel there was; a damsel-in-distress. Howl softly marched up to the three, elegantly gliding over the pavement with practiced ease. When he reached her side he comfortably rested his left arm around her small shoulders. He inwardly smiled as he caressed the fabric of her dress. She had worn such gray garments to hide her petite frame…for shame!

"There you are honey," he started, coating his already melodious voice with sugar and nectar. "I've been looking all over for you."

They were surprised, to say the least… and the soldiers, it seemed, did not want to lose their rightful bounty to a passing stranger.

Howl was amused. The soldiers had the nerve to threaten _him_, the Wizard Howl? Of course, with utmost ease he shooed them away. After quickly making sure the soldiers strutted all the way back to their posts—and _stayed_ in their posts—Howl managed to steal a peek at his prize. He was delighted to see that he was correct. As he considered himself a connoisseur in womanly beauty, his pride justly swelled when he found his new company to possess just that.

"Now," he said. "Where were you headed?"

"To…to Cesari's…" She closed her lips with uncertainty. It was hard to deny how much cuter she was when frightened, almost like a timid field mouse. Now if he could only bring out her true character…

Without hesitation Howl pulled her closer and started forward. But just in case she decided to refuse, he placed a little "encouragement" on her… something that would subtly push her onward, though he doubted she had enough courage to refuse him. She seemed too polite to do anything _improper_.

_Too polite for her own good._ _We'll have to do something about that, now won't we?_

In retrospect, Howl could admit he had been a little pushy in practically **forcing** a meek, young lady into accompanying a total stranger—albeit a handsome stranger. Still, he never meant any harm, and it had been he who had rescued her from the two perverted soldiers, so Howl thought he could be forgiven. Besides, he was simply quenching his curiosity.

He directed his lady-friend through the crowd like a true gentleman, weaving and bypassing the rowdiest bodies. It was pure luck, upon arriving at Cesari's, to find Lettie had taken a day off. It certainly would've been awkward to nab the attention of his interest, if today had been different from his past attempts, while dining with his unexpected companion.

It was strange to watch the girl perk at his request of "two cream cakes and a glass of lemonade". He wondered how malnourished she truly was and how much of her baggy dress hid her body.

The moment the orders arrived he looked up and began carefully examining the field mouse, the mouse in question completely engrossed in her food. Her complexion was sickly pale, and he found two unflattering bags under her lovely walnut eyes. It was a disgrace to see such natural beauty go to waste… he wondered what reasons she had for staying up so late into the night (for it was painfully obvious she was doing so).

He left Cesari's with more questions than answers. Fortunately, he had been given the opportunity to demonstrate his generosity by sacrificing his breakfast to satiate the mouse (though he did not have any appetite to begin with). As the two left the shop, Howl placed a different spell on the field mouse, this time tactfully leading her to her desired destination, in turn leading him to wherever she was heading for.

Howl, trying to make her more comfortable, started a conversation, though in truth he wasn't paying much attention. While he mindlessly asked his questions he was secretly trying to piece all her answers into a life story. She lived alone, which meant she was used to an independent lifestyle; she reacted very calmly when he mentioned the Witch, which meant she was familiar with his reputation.

When she came to a stop everything seemed to click. He looked at the backdoor of the Hatters' shop, realizing who this field mouse was. He had seen her before, granted in meager glances, toiling in the backroom with her needles and bonnets as if they were the only things that mattered in her gloomy life. He had first heard of the Hatters last May Day, when the two exquisite Hatter sisters were finally allowed to roam the streets unattended in their breathtaking gowns. The talks of another Hatter girl, the talented needle-worker, never interested anyone. Not even Howl.

Until now.

"Well, thank you for keeping me company," he said, intentionally sliding his hand down her one arm. "I enjoyed our breakfast."

He bent down and left a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. Satisfied, he stood up and grinned.

"I hope you will accompany me for dinner tonight."

Howl found her mild, quiet protests to be entertaining… and also very cute. He was right to call her a field mouse; she barely squeaked. He waved his hand and made another comment about magic, which promptly silenced the mouse.

Her innocent mind made the game all the more delightful.

"I'll see you at eight, on the dot. That's when you get off your shift, isn't it?" Knowing the answer, as it was common around Market Chipping for the shops to close at eight, Howl left her side, a small smile dancing on his lips.

The mysterious Sophie Hatter.

_What an intriguing_ _game!_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **…And because I realized I'm just not good with men's POV, we switch back to Sophie and the upcoming (insert melodramatic music) Prince's Ball! At least we got a peek into Howl's mind.

**Disclaimer: **Refer to the first chapter with the Hong Kong Triads bosses and the…such and such.

-

-

**Chapter Four**

-–—–-

_It had been terribly kind of him._

"Look, look! That must be his castle!"

Sophie looked up from her latest project and watched the blurred sky from her window. She ignored the shouts and screams outside her workroom to the best of her ability, but Martha had the loudest of friends imaginable.

"That's Howl's castle!"

"He must be handsome," one swooned. "I wish he'd take _me _away."

"Oh please. He only goes after pretty girls."

The girls laughed at the good-natured joke and continued chattering about the castle. Sophie squinted through her open window and observed the blob that was the supposed castle: a tall black tower that sporadically appeared on the hills above Market Chipping, blowing clouds of dirty black smoke from its four tall, thin turrets. What made the castle special was it did not stay in the same place. Sometimes it was a tall dark smudge on the moors to the west, and sometimes the castle rove about the hills, actually moving with smoke pouring out from the turrets in dirty gray gusts. The Mayor, for a while, talked of sending to the King for help, but something changed his mind.

_Perhaps he did a favor for the Mayor too…_

Sophie held her forehead, feeling her face heat up. Even thinking about last night made her queasy.

Much less a little ashamed.

"Sophie."

She whirled from her stool and turned to the door. To her great shock, and discomfort, Lettie was at the doorway, casually leaning on the frame as if she was a routine visitor. Which she was not. Sophie quickly got up and dusted her apron off, trying to be as polite as possible in front of one of her boss's daughters.

"Please don't get up, Sophie," she said, holding her hand up. "I don't want to pull you from your work."

Sophie obeyed and sat back down on her stool, feeling all the more foolish. It was strange, really. For much of her life she had been ignored and overlooked, and she had gotten used to what she was. Plain. She was, actually, quite fond of being naturally looked over. It was her way of avoiding unnecessary contact, unnecessary confrontation. Sure, she had attracted several unfavorable suitors during her life in the streets, but they were never serious (and she suspected that many of them had been drunk). Sophie was good at avoiding trouble and people altogether. She had been proud of that. But now…

Simply put, everything was out of place. And she had the distinct feeling the Wizard had something to do with this sudden turn of events.

"I heard you've gotten a raise," Lettie began, pulling Sophie out of her stupor. "You must've done a fantastic job. Mother hasn't given anyone a raise in years. Just look at Bessie."

Sophie thought about telling her that Bessie had retired today since her wedding day had been moved up, but decided against it. She was naturally quiet, after all. She wanted to avoid any unnecessary conversation.

"I was thinking," she moved to the stool Sophie had slept on last night and sat down, "that perhaps we should get to know each other more."

Sophie blinked. "Get to…?"

"Know each other," Lettie smiled. "We've known each other for years but we've never actually had a conversation, have we? I must've seemed like such a prick to you."

"No!" She held her hands up, furiously shaking her head. But she couldn't form any coherent words. Or thoughts for that matter. This was so very unfamiliar, so very weird to her.

"Oh don't be so modest. Maybe we can both go look for dresses before the Ball. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" With that question left to hang in the air, Lettie stood up, gave Sophie another sweet smile, and walked out of the workroom.

* * *

It was terribly upsetting. 

It hadn't been her words. No, her words had been kind and gentle. It had been her attitude. Her whole attitude.

"_Maybe we can both go look for dresses before the Ball. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"_

Sophie shook her head. Her kindness was unsettling. This new friendship put a whole new pressure on her, as if she had to live up to Lettie's newfound expectations of her. What if Sophie acted or did something unbecoming in front of Lettie? Then Lettie might simply drop her and forget about their friendship. That might've seemed appealing in the past, but now that she knew what it was like to have human contact, (it was horrifying to admit) she was beginning to like the whole idea of having friends…

Which made the pressure so much worse. Now that she knew what if felt like to be with people, she could not revert back to her shy, mouse-like nature… what she valued as independence was crumbling before her face, and she could not stop it. She didn't have the heart to. It was as if she was addicted to the taste of friendship, having just talked to another girl her age.

But what if she did something wrong? Something embarrassing?

Then people would mock her, her friendship would be lost, and she would have to go back toiling in the workroom; which, ironically, would've seemed appealing to her old self. But now… now, the thought of it made her shudder in grief. After talking to Lettie…

After talking to Howl…

_Pressure_. That's what she felt. Pressure, for now she had someone to depend on, and to be depended upon.

"I'm going out for lunch," Sophie quietly said as she passed Fanny.

"You're spending your new earnings wisely." Fanny smiled and went to the backroom to do more sums.

Sophie exited the shop with mixed emotions. Had that smile been wicked? Sarcastic? Had Fanny meant to be sarcastic or funny?

_Pressure_.

Sophie saw the fault in having social contacts. You had to actually care what others thought about you. People could claim they didn't care about their reputation, but, in the deep recesses of their mind, they did care. Or had an inkling of curiosity on the topic.

She sighed.

_What a bother._

"**_ARGHHH!"_**

Sophie looked up, nearly knocked off her feet. She really needed to stop daydreaming at random moments.

"Oh boy," she heard someone say as she rounded a corner. "Oh, this is really bad."

It was a boy, around Martha's age, grumbling something under his breath. He was lying on his back with a large, wooden crate on top of him in a most uncomfortable position. Sophie winced. She saw that the crate was perhaps 5 times her size, and if it was heavy as it was large… But how on earth had it gotten in such a narrow alleyway like this?

"Ow…"

Sophie bit her bottom lip. She could not simply walk away from this. She was cursed with a conscience, after all.

The boy looked up with saucer eyes when he opened his eyes, shock replacing his pain.

"Are you OK?" Sophie bent down and calmly examined the crate. "Are you hurt?"

He was reluctant to answer at first, but when she stood up to perhaps try and push the crate off him he quickly intervened. "No! I, I think one of my ribs is broken."

Sophie's frown deepened. "Then I should go find a soldier, or maybe—"

"No!" he said, his face covered in light sweat. "No… I…" His face contorted in pain, but Sophie had a feeling he was making some kind of an important decision in his head. With a grunt he reopened his eyes. "In my bag there's a piece of parchment. I want you to take it out and read it out loud."

Sophie was hesitant, but did as she was told. She didn't know what it would accomplish, but seeing as he was in so much pain she didn't protest. She picked up the bag from beside the crate and rummaged through its content before taking out a very old parchment. She dropped the bag on the floor and slowly, and loudly, read the words. It was a poem, of sorts, though she did not recognize most of the words.

"Hello?"

Sophie looked around. And her eyes widened in awe.

She was not in the alleyways anymore. In fact, she found herself indoors in a rather bizarre house. She stepped away from the crate and the boy's bag before her eyes landed on the boy, sprawled out on the dusty floor but miraculously out from beneath the crate. He seemed still in pain, though. Sophie moved to him when the same voice spoke up again.

"Hello? Yoo-hoo, I'm talking to you."

Sophie stepped away from the crate, the offending object that blocked her view of the fireplace, and came face-to-face with a fire with two eyes and one black mouth. She stared for a very long time before the boy on the floor moaned, coming out of consciousness.

"Calcifer?" he groaned. "Are you there?"

"Whoa, Markl," said the fire. "What happened to you?"

"I was transporting the…the crate, you know… the shipment? I was doing that…then I… accidentally… knocked it over… and it… Oh."

"Jeez, you better heal yourself before How—wait, who's she?" Calcifer turned to Sophie, completely forgetting about Markl.

Sophie opened her mouth just as the front door opened.

"Calcifer," a voice all too familiar said from behind the crate. "Start the hot bath. We're going to have dinner tonight so you'll also need to start… Calcifer?" The voice, curious as to why he was getting no complaints or any kind of response from the fire, came closer. "What's this crate doing here?" Calcifer and Markl silently watched the scene unfold, unable to help themselves.

Sophie turned from the fire demon just as Howl walked around the large crate, both turning to face the other at the same time.

Calcifer saw Howl blink.

Markl saw Sophie pale.

Then the three males watched Sophie do something unexpected. No, she did not faint.

She jumped away and skittered to the other side of the crate, hiding behind the box as if she was playing hide-and-seek.

"Sophie?" said Howl from behind the crate. "Is that you?"

"You know her?" said the incredulous fire to her left.

"I'm…sorry, Howl," said the boy on the floor. "I was transporting…shipment… then it…fell. She came…helped me… read the spell."

Sophie turned around and leaned back against the crate, trying to stifle her out of control heart. She knew where she was now. This was the wizard's domain. This was Howl's moving castle.

Unwittingly, unconsciously, Sophie closed her mouth and held her breath.

"Sophie."

_Look away. Please…leave me alone. Please go away. Disappear… disappear._

"Sophie, it's all right. It's just me."

"_Just _you?" Calcifer stared. "_Just _you? Since when have you been another _just_?"

"Calcifer, that's enough. She's just distressed."

"Again with the _just_."

"Cal—"

"_Howl!"_

Howl turned on Markl's call and saw Sophie sway on the spot before collapsing to the floor.

Sophie's world darkened, but before she lost consciousness she saw two concerned, marble-like eyes hovering above her.

_Disappear._

"Sophie…"

And then nothing.

* * *

**AN: **And then I leave off on one of the most clichéd cliffhangers in fanfiction—the classic female fainting shtick. Also, since I know I'll be questioned on this, I'll say it here: Markl's birth name is Michael (like in the book), but he goes by Markl (the movie name). We'll find out exactly WHY he goes by Markl in the next chapter. On another note, anyone ever watched Neon Genesis Evangelion? This chapter delved into Sophie's psyche so much even I began feeling heavy while reading the concept of social expectations. Yeeeeeeesh… 

Next chapter—Sophie realizes she needs to get back to work. (No, that's not the title.)


End file.
